


Fred Weasley and the Conspiracy of 1978

by ao3cat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Conspiracy, F/M, Fred Weasley Lives, Getting Back Together, Government Conspiracy, Growing Up Together, Minor Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley, Mystery, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ao3cat/pseuds/ao3cat
Summary: In a foggy, Mid-October dawn, Fred Weasley was startled awake by a persistent tapping on his bedroom window. Situated on top of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, at number 93 Diagon Alley, the infamous Weasley twins peacefully dwelled, enjoying the spoils of post-war relief. Fred, much like everyone else around him, would like to forget that the war even happened. He could finally live life like an ordinary twenty-one year old man.It's too bad that the war was never really over. An abuse of power, a corrupt bureaucracy, and media propaganda might deny it, but no one knows what Fred's ex-girlfriend does. When she leaves Fred a seemingly innocuous letter, Fred gets himself into something that he admits is way over his head...
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. The Mysterious Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, this story moves pretty quickly, mostly because I don't have much patience with writing an entire 120K fic. Hopefully, it has substance, and you enjoy the read. For all you mystery/ conspiracy lovers out there, I hope I did this justice.....  
> I'll try to update as much as I can! This is a quarantine project, and I'm writing as I go, so if you have any recommendations/ more parts of the story you want me to delve into, don't be shy and write a comment! I might edit some chapters in ways to give readers more of what they want.

In a foggy, Mid-October dawn, Fred Weasley was startled awake by a persistent tapping on his bedroom window. Situated on top of Weasley Wizard Wheezes, at number 93 Diagon Alley, the infamous Weasley twins peacefully dwelled, enjoying the spoils of post-war relief. The second downfall of Lord Voldemort was a bittersweet event, and Fred gladly reflects that he’s quite lucky to have gotten away from the clutches of death and through the brutality of the war.  
The Battle of Hogwarts was not a pretty one. Many had lost their lives and families were irrevocably torn apart. Souls were crushed. Fred groggily reaches towards his face to rub at his tired eyes, and mindlessly traces the scar down his left cheek. The scar, mildly pink and raised, ran down the top of his forehead, across his left temple and cheek, all the way down to his neck. Fred’s right knee, the one that had fully been crushed by a hundred tons of stone, had not healed completely yet. Fred hopes that he can walk without a cane someday (he likes to joke that by the time his body is done healing, he’ll be too old and would need a cane again anyways).

The persistent tapping had not stopped. At his window, facing cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley and the hundreds of storefronts that lined it, was a black barn owl. Fred grimaced a bit, before stretching out his upper body and standing up, hobbling towards the window. Dropping a letter and the newest issue of the Daily Prophet and taking a peck of the small bowl of treats near Fred’s window, the black owl quickly retreated back into the gray sky, still brisk and icy from the early morning.

Fred decided to glaze over the prophet first.

  
**NEW MOVEMENT ON REMAINING DEATH EATER FRONT SPARKS COMMUNITY CONCERN**

Fred decided not to read the article. It seems as though the Prophet had taken a new approach as of late, reporting hyper vigilantly about the remaining of Voldemort’s followers. Fred was sure if one of them sneezed, it would make front page news.  
Fred picked at the letter, before finally opening it.

_Dear Fred,_  
** _....._ **

_I know that we broke up, for valid reason too. Have you been taking good care of George and yourself? Been wondering lately if I should write/ talk to you. Taken a while for me to work up the nerve I guess._

_Check up with your Ron, Hermione, Harry, or Ginny recently? Apartment is probably a mess without me there, cleaning up after you as always._

_Don’t feel obligated to respond, I’m not expecting a reply. Contact is always nice to keep, especially after everything we’ve been through, but it’s not guaranteed._

_Take care of yourself,_  
_Kathryn_

Fred stares at the parchment in wonder. His ex-girlfriend, with whom he had shared almost six months of his life with, wasn’t one to dwell on the past much, let alone write such a confusing letter to someone who had broken her heart. Fred laments, he should have gone about the break up in a more cautious way.

Kathryn was one of his best friends. For years, they pranked, plotted, and pestered their peers to a near insanity, running through the corridors of Hogwarts as if a war wasn’t waging outside of the castle’s walls. Two years his junior, she shared classes with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. A true Gryffindor, she stood by her best friends through thick and thin. He missed her loyalty at times.

However, concerning Fred? They had a much more complicated relationship. Fred’s eyes glazed over and he remembers the conversation they had before Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

It was a hot summer’s day at the Burrow, the magnificent home of the Weasleys, situated on a small hill outside Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon. The mid- July weather was swelteringly hot, and the residents of the Burrow, consisting of the Weasley’s, Kathryn, and Hermione had needlessly been trying to find ways to cool themselves down.

  
Kathryn and Fred had been trying to have a cool conversation about the following year, to no avail.

“I need to do this. I have to. Harry and Ron are right gits, and you can’t expect Hermione to be the only one there with half a brain,” Kathryn’s voice was quiet, but had an icy edge. “I love them. I’m going with them.”

“Right. On a bloody mission, on a bloody hunt, for how many missing things? What even are they anyways? Why are you looking for them?” Fred fires back.

“It’s... not important that you know. Dumbledore left Harry a mission, and it would be foolish of me if I didn’t at least try to help him.”

“I’m still not understanding. Shouldn’t this be an issue brought up to the Order?”

“The Order won’t be useful for this. Dumbledore had his own reasons for leaving this mission for Harry, and if he didn’t share the information with the Order, then maybe this information isn’t safe with the Order. It goes down to trusting Dumbledore’s judgement.”

Fred wanted to argue more, but he couldn’t renounce the logic of her statement. He stayed quiet.

A quiet lull captured the room. Kathryn quietly packed her bag, a small brown leather bag that had an Undetectable Extension Charm. Fred watched her, quietly. Enough had been said between the two of them. The silence was comfortable, the tension of the prior conversation forgotten.

“You’re one of my best friends. You know tha’?” Fred asked.

Kathryn looked up from her clothes, and nodded.

“You can be a bullheaded tit, did you know that?”

Fred let out a chuckle.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back. Keep everyone safe in the meantime, including yourself. We have more to figure out but this war comes first.”  
This was one of the only times Kathryn had mentioned this “more to figure out” but it wasn’t hard for Fred to connect the dots. This permanent chase, the fondness between the two had transcended a simple friendship. In a time of war, they couldn’t address it though. It would have to wait. At this time, Fred had resigned and comforted himself with the fact that these affections, although not acted upon, were very much reciprocated.

Kathryn looked down, pausing while folding some of her winter sweaters that she needed to pack.

“Don’t you think it’s kind-of badass? Me going on a mission with ‘The Chosen One’. Sure you’re not just jealous?” She teased.

“Oh please, why would I ever be jealous of you?” He retorted.

“Oh I meant of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I mean… they’re going on a badass journey with me. Very enviable position, if you ask me.”  
Fred rested his head on his hand, as if in deep thought.

“Never thought of that before… You might be onto something, lovie,” Fred replied in mock admiration.

“Damn right.”

Fred looked down at the letter with contempt. Immediately after the war, Harry and Ginny had settled down. Surprisingly, Ron and Hermione had also settled into a domestic bliss as well. As for Kathryn and Fred, they had tried to settle into happiness with one another. The first months of the relationship were happy ones, where they could openly share their feelings and affection whenever and wherever they wanted.

Over time, the hugs grew cold and the kisses grew forced and Georgie, his dear twin, kept going out to these newly opened wizard bars and clubs, and Fred felt himself missing out on a lifestyle he never got to enjoy. The bachelor life. The life of a simple 21-year-old that wasn’t tied down by school or work or war.

Living at school for 6, almost 7 years, and immediately starting a business didn’t leave much time for festivities. Sure, the joke shop was plenty fun, but put simply: work was work. Owning a business at twenty and trying to keep it afloat during a time where people would go missing left and right and shops were closing down one by one had a mental toll on him. And finally, a year after opening, Weasley Wizard Wheezes closed down and its owners were reluctantly forced into hiding. The government had been compromised. Nobody was safe.

Finally, at the wars end, Fred realized he didn’t want to be in a relationship and in a business and burrowed back into adulthood. He wanted to enjoy what life was finally offering him. So, with a very clear mind, he had ended the relationship he had waited years for, in an attempt to enjoy a piece of life he had yet to experience.

Fred, embarrassingly, sometimes forgets how his actions affected her. He remembers the day it all came to a head, walking into the apartment only to find Kat sitting on the couch, a frown on her face. And with that, came the awful conversation.

Within a day, she had already been packing her boxes out of the apartment on top of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes and within a week she was already settling in her new flat at Number 13 Diagon Alley, with her ends tied and her relationship officially over. And she never looked back, no siree.

Fred held the letter with the tips of his fingers, as if the card stock would crumble under the pressure of his palms. The paper was small, with a jagged and torn edge. Fred flipped over the letter only to find a book title: The Sorrow’s Second Best. Strange. She hadn’t used a piece of parchment and instead torn a book page out of (what could have been) a perfectly good book. However, Fred decided not to dwell over the letter, and threw in onto his cluttered work bench. He could reread it again when it was a reasonable time in the morning.

So, Fred hobbled back to his bed, and enveloped himself into his dark green sheets, drifting off again into a dreamless unconsciousness.

It was a week later, at an infamous Weasley Sunday roast when he was reminded of the letter again.

“It’s very strange. She’s not sick, is she?” Hermione questioned. Hermione Granger, war hero of the century, was still just as prim and proper as she was all those years ago when Fred was first introduced to her in his third year. With bushy brown hair and insatiable ambition, Hermione was undoubtably the brightest witch of her age. Unfortunately, it made her quite nosy and pervasive when she wanted to be, and her invasive questions became commonplace during Weasley family dinners, due to her sickening and ongoing relationship with Fred’s younger brother, Ron.

“What’re you on about again, Granger?” George smirked while helping himself to another serving of mash potato.

“Kathryn. She hasn’t shown up to the office in a week.” Harry replied. Fred yawned and reached for his glass of water. He didn’t like when she was brought up in conversation anymore. Harry’s steely gaze didn’t waver as Fred stared down at the table.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Fred lamented in his head. “It’s only been a month since it happened.”  
Ron’s jaw clenched slightly, an inevitable tell of his concealed anger. Ron and Harry had been supporting her all throughout the month, and Fred was quite glad whenever these weekly dinners came to an end. Ron has always had problems with his anger, and his snide remarks and condescending comments were annoying as an itch. Fred figured the cold shoulder was a period that would pass at some point.

“Have you heard anything?” Hermione’s question was thrown out to the whole group, but her eyes never left Fred. A quietness covered the table like a blanket.

“No, dear. Hasn’t sent me many letters lately. I wonder how she’s doing,” Mrs. Weasley smiled. The smile looked strained, disingenuous. She had a fit when Fred told her Kathryn was gone. Luckily, after that incident, she never mentioned her again.

“She’s been quiet with me. Usually we have letters from her every fortnight, but it’s been quiet for a while now,” Bill announced, looking over at Fleur for confirmation. She stayed quiet, but nodded resolutely.

“She ought not to miss work, the Ministry’s getting awful stuffy about no-shows. Where does she work again? Department of Mysteries?” Percy pointedly asked.

“Erm, yeah. Haven’t seen her ‘round the Ministry at all. It’s a large building, but even her assistant has said she’s been gone,” Harry confirmed.

“Sent a letter to ours ‘round a week ago, right Gred?” George spooned a bite of mash into his mouth before turning toward his twin. “What was that about?”  
Fred instantly regretted ever mentioning the letter to his wildly insensitive twin. George was a smart bloke, but he could really put his foot in his mouth sometimes. In this case, Fred felt like the foot was shoved in his mouth. He would’ve rather kept the strange letter a secret.

“Erm... yeah. A week ago. Quick little letter asking me how I was doing.”

Hermione’s mouth twitched, almost turning into a downright frown.

“Well that’s quite strange, isn’t it? A bit out of character for her.” Hermione looked as if she was biting out her words.

“Umm, yeah. It was unexpected, but it was still nice... I h-haven’t written back yet, planned to do that later today.” Fred quickly lied. He felt like absolute rubbish for completely forgetting her letter. A self-centered part of him wondered if her week of absense had anything to do with his lack of response to the perfectly nice olive branch.

“Can we read it?” Ron piped up.

Fred eyed him strangely. “Why do you need to?”

“You’re the last person she’s been in contact with before going silent for an entire week. Maybe it’s the Auror training kicking in, but I think that means something,” Ron’s response was irritatingly sound. Ron was tone deaf in some ways, and absolutely daft at others, but since the war (or maybe since Hermione) he’d been annoyingly observant and logical as of late.

“...Sure. I’ll Floo to the flat and grab it.”

So, Fred took off in the middle of dinner to retrieve a silly note from his ex-girlfriend, a girl that everyone in his family had sided with, and a girl that he, at times, woefully regretted letting go. The flat was dark and cramped, and miserably cluttered, and Fred thought back to the comment she had made “cleaning up after you, as always” and he wondered if she missed him as well. Maybe his response to her letter could spark their friendship again. Then, she could go to family dinners and make his family not hate him and things could go back to a normal that everyone knew before the war. Fred felt slightly better about the situation and it’s possibilities.

“Here. It’s not very long. Was just going to write and update her about some inventions. That’s all there is to it.” Fred dutifully dropped the paper into Hermione’s lap and unceremoniously plopped back into his seat at the table.

Hermione has started reading the note and paused, scrunching her eyebrows before turning the paper around.

“It’s written on a book page.”

“Thanks for the observation. I know she wrote it on a book page” Fred replied.

“Why would she do that?” Hermione’s words were slow and full of thought.

“I know it might be egregious to defile a book in your eyes, but she could’ve just run out of parchment, Granger.”

Hermione looked back at the title of the book, before rapidly flipping the paper over and rereading the note again. Fred felt slightly irritated at the situation, and even more agitated at her roughly handling the paper, but her shrill voice interrupted his thoughts.  
“I think she’s in trouble.” Hermione’s voice was shaky.

The table erupted in questions. Hermione’s eyes never left the note.

“WHAT do you mean, Granger?” George rose out of his seat and leaned over the table, trying to get a look at the note.

“Fred... she put these dots on the top of the paper. Near your name. Do you know what that means?”  
Fred suddenly felt on the spot, the panick of her prior statement affecting his cognitive function. He searched his mind for what that could possibly mean.

“I dunno. Thought maybe she was just rubbing out her quill tip or something. Didn’t think it was anything.”

Hermione held up the paper now, and the dots, dark and pigmented, almost made indents into the thick cardstock. It was clear that those dots had not been dotted into the paper by accident. Kathryn had put so much pressure that she almost punctured through it with the quill tip. Fred felt light headed. He hadn’t noticed the indents on the paper in his sleep deprived haze.

“Also, she seemed to randomly underline certain letters. Maybe it’s an anagram?” Hermione stared down at the paper in wonder.

“What’s the bloody dots supposed to mean?” Harry snapped. Ginny at his side reached her hand onto his lap and squeezed his thigh comfortingly. He was getting increasingly impatient, a trait that he didn’t leave behind in his school days.

“They’re like... pips. Or seeds. It basically represents misfortune or a bad omen. Harm to the people that receive them.”

“So? Kathryn wanted to bloody curse Fred? Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bill remarked.

“Realistically, yes. In this context, I don’t believe so. The page this letter is written on is from The Sorrow’s Second Best. 5 pips are mentioned in the story, but they don’t mean the same thing that they usually mean,” Hermione was now closely inspecting the paper, bringing it up close to her face to perhaps catch a detail within the card stock.

“I’ve never heard of that book. Is it a muggle story?” Mrs. Weasley questioned. Everyone had stopped eating, full attention on Hermione.

“Yes. In the book, it’s used as a means to communicate a secret message. Secret societies used to use it as a sign that bad things were happening. Look at her phrasing in this,” Hermione reached out to Ron, who now hunched over the piece of paper with the same amount of scrutiny.

“So she’s trying to send us a message? This doesn’t look too weird ‘Mione,” Ron’s frustrated face scrunched up in concentration. “I guess some of these sentences seem kind of awkward. No idea why she randomly underlined some letters either...”

“She wouldn’t phrase things this way, I know her!” Hermione quickly dug into her beaded bag, pulling out a pencil and a small notepad. Quickly, she jotted down the underlined letters before methodically scribbling words that the letters could decipher. None of them made much sense.

“Not quite sure if Kat’s trying to tell us ‘Bad Itch’ ‘Mione,” Ginny grimaced while looking down at Hermione’s notepad. “You sure there isn’t another meaning for those letters?”

Harry looked down at the notepad before looking at the letter. His head bobbled as he did another take.

“It’s a combined skip code and looks like an anagram. Look— the first letter of every sentence corresponds to a different letter that she underlined in different words.” Harry continued. “I Have Been Taken. Check Apartment. Don’t Contact.”

Suddenly, Fred Weasley had felt very small and helpless, in a small chair at the Burrow in Ottery St. Catchpole, outside Devon, as multiple pairs of eyes stared at him for an explanation that he simply did not have.


	2. Details, Details

Hermione’s pencil fell out of her hand and everyone immediately jumped up from their seats, crowding around the letter. Fred remained sitting, he felt slightly sick. The words being spoken were not being processed.

“This isn’t happening,” his inner thoughts remarked. “It is simply... not happening.”

Fred eyes bore into the table below him, hyper focused on one spot in an attempt to not get dizzy. He focused on one of the memories that flashed through his mind in a haze.

“Stupid git! I swear I did everything right, yet he still finds a way to get under my skin. Every single time! Bloody unbearable!” Kathryn collapsed onto Fred’s four poster bed, her uniform askew from her constant fumbling with it.

Fred chuckled before loosening his tie and throwing it onto his nightstand. He collapsed on the bed on her right, burying her shoulder. She hissed quietly at the weight and dug her nails into his ribs, which he had anticipated. He contorted his body away from her claws before settling comfortably. Half on top of her.

“Now you know what it’s like to be around you all the time!” His cheeky grin never faltered.

“Shove off. You’re heavy,” she breathed hard as if you prove her statement.

“It’s all muscle, don’t worry. Been training all year, lovie. You’re lookin’ at Gryffindor;s best beater,” Fred flexed his muscles, laughing at his friends attempt to pinch him in the ribs.

“Funny, I don’t see George ‘round anywhere. Ha!”

Kathryn’s body was quickly grabbed after her statement, as Fred pinned her to the bed and tickled her without mercy.

“Oi! Georgie’s got nothing on me! Plus, I’m the older twin. The original make ‘n model,” Fred’s voice was thick with amusement.

Kathryn caught her breath, laughing at him.

“George is the new edition baby! New and improved, and never better!” She emphasized her point with a cheeky wink.

At this, Fred let out a quick mock laugh, as Kathryn guffawed at her own terrible joke. Kathryn calmed down slowly, before turning her head to the right to look her best friend in the face.

“So… you’re really going to escape Umbitch, aren’t you?” Kat’s smile never faded, but there was a seriousness in her eyes.

“Yeah. Me and Georgie have everything worked out. The shop is there, and she’s just waiting for us,” Fred looked up at the ceiling dreamily, already excited at the twin’s plan to leave the school with a large performance.

“Will you do me one last thing, Freddie? Before you leave?”

Fred hesitated. “What is it?”

“Prank that stupid fuckin’ Ravenclaw from Potions.”

Fred let out a breathy laugh before scooping his best friend into a cuddle. He lightly grazed his nails against her back, just the way she liked. She sighed and relaxed further into the hug. Fred was wholly convinced that life couldn’t get any better than this.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Gred! Gred! Snap out of it, will you?” George badgered him until Fred finally snapped out of his reverie.

Fred was a bit afraid. If Fred were to become idle, and didn’t think about ways to actively save Kathryn, he might just slip back into his head, into a simpler time, and stay there. He couldn’t afford it. He looked up from the table to see the rest of the family staring at him, as if he had just sprouted horns and a large tail. Fred tried to direct the attention back on the letter.

“So, what’s the plan? How do we get her back?” Fred asked, his face veering towards the opposite ends of the table.

“Bloody hell! Don’t go on like you’re starting to care for her. It’s bloody awful of you! This probably wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you!” Ron yelled.

The Weasley’s were stunned into silence. Ron’s anger wasn’t contained anymore, and he wasn’t holding back.

“Why do you have to bring up the breakup all of the time? It happens! Couples fall in love and out of love and break up-- just grow up! Why is that such a big deal to all of you?”

“Because of the reason you broke up! It’s a bloody stupid one! You’re slinking around here, acting like you’re the only one who missed out on things because the war. You’re not the only one who lost your youth! Harry and Teddy lost both their goddamn parents!” Ron was unequivocally right. Annoyingly right. Glaringly right. He was so right; it was downright un-Ron-like to be so right at this moment. Fred shut his mouth, and continued to stare back at the table. This conversation obviously did not need his input anymore.

“Oi! He might’ve messed up but that doesn’t mean you get to say things like that.” At least Percy had stuck up for him. “You don’t have the right to say those things, Ron. We all missed out on something because of the war. We’re allowed to miss it.”

“Ron…” Hermione started, her voice softening. “This isn’t the time or place.”

Ron looked at Hermione, and simply nodded, looking at Harry who had now left his place at the table.

Ron sulked off into the sitting room, closely connected to the cramped kitchen and grabbing the small copper pot of Floo powder sitting on the mantelpiece.

“We’re Floo-ing to her flat. We’ll come back if we find anything. Alert the Order,” Ron snapped.

One after the other, Ron, Harry, and Hermione has left the Burrow.

All the while, Fred was left, sat at the dinner table at the Burrow, feeling sorry for himself.

\-----

Number 13 in Diagon Alley had been unoccupied for 6 days. Dishes lined the sink, intended to be washed, but never eventually tended to. A cup of tea lay on the nightstand, only half finished with a lipstick stain on its rim. Books piled high on the bookshelf, with wilting houseplants here and there that haven’t been watered.

This particular flat, Kathryn’s flat, was also rummaged through. Overturned. The small turquoise armchairs were strewn about the room. The marble counter top island was smashed in, as if someone had rebounded from a spell and crashed into it. Dust and debris of wood and marble littered the tiles of the kitchen. Papers were strewn about, with a small loose-leaf notebook on the floor. All the pages were ripped out of it. Finally, broken glass littered the floor, the cupboards of the kitchen emptied, and the well-loved ceramics of the plates and cups and bowls were now shards on the ground.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had directly floo-ed into a war zone.

“Whatever happened here, Kathryn definitely put up a fight,” Ron breathily remarked, stepping out of the fireplace.

“Maybe she did it on purpose, so we’d eventually know something happened if one of us decided to check up on her,” Hermione added. She looked at the floor, trying to contain herself. This was a terrible reminder that in some ways, the war was not over by a long shot.

“Split up. Try to find some useful information, what she was working on. She works for the Department of Mysteries, yeah? That must paint a huge target on her back,” Harry instructed. His directions were methodical, but his voice was tired. He was tired of war. They were all tired of war. Harry’s eyes glanced around the apartment, trying to find a speck of useful information. For some reason, it was like his Auror training was failing him.

“Check the bookcase,” Hermione’s direction shocked Harry out of his self-deprecating thoughts.

“Right,” he uttered. “Good idea.”

Scanning the bookcase for any useful notebooks or for _The Sorrow’s Second Best_ , Harry was frustrated with all he saw. Quidditch books, old history textbooks, some old programs from plays Kathryn had seen in the West End, and nothing of use were found in his search of the bookcase.

Desperate, Harry decided to rifle through the remaining drawer’s in the kitchen, careful not to step near the splintered wood of the decimated counters. On the way to the kitchen, he stopped in front of the the fridge and it’s collection of magnets.

Random pictures, moving and muggle, were taped and magically adhered to the fridge door. Harry spotted a moving photo of Kathryn and Neville Longbottom, out near the old Herbology Greenhouse. Both were tending to Neville’s Mibulus Mimbletonia during their fifth year, and the picture was of them repotting the plant with gloves that were comedically too big for both of them. They were both laughing. Some photos were with Seamus and Dean, both at various Gryffindor quidditch games throughout the years, with yellow and gold paint on their cheeks. However, most of the photos were with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. As all good best friends, all of them realized that embarrassingly, there were very few pictures of the four of them despite the lows and the highs that all of them had been through. Post-war, there was an extra effort amongst all of them to take more pictures together.

Harry's heart hurt as he spotted a photo strip of the four of them, taken when they visited the Brighton beach pier. The summer after the war had been a good one, Harry remembers, where they all were able to let go of all the pain of the war, and look forward towards the future. The quad had taken lots of trips, spending endless days at the beach, eating ice cream, sipping firewhiskies around bonfires, and talking about future careers that they wanted to get started when fall came around. 

Harry looked back at the fridge. None of the pictures on the fridge were with Fred. Harry’s heart dropped for a second before he gulped down his sadness. He had a job to do.

“Her room is a mess. But I don’t see anything there. I don’t think Kathryn had any diary or journal, but do you know if she did?” Ron asked, walking away from the mess of her bedroom.

“No. She never had one,” Harry stayed, sifting through the silverware in her kitchen. Nothing stowed away here, Harry thought.

“Bathroom is fine. Mainly in tact as well.” Hermione exclaimed, walking out of the bathroom. She seemed exasperated. “What’s the plan now?”

“Me and Ron should do a little more digging, check some of the wards that she put up. Can’t figure that she’d be living in this apartment without putting any type of protection up,” Harry observed. “Go back to the Burrow. Maybe see why she sent Fred the message. Why wouldn’t she just send it to you?”

Hermione’s nose scrunched in confusion. “You’re right. We’re both muggleborns, I would probably have more exposure to _Sorrow’s Second Best_ rather than Fred."

“We know it got delivered a week ago, but it might not have been delivered by her. Could be an old letter and delivered to Fred later. Also, the code? She couldn’t have possibly thought that Fred could crack it. He didn’t even know it was code, right?” Ron noted sourly.

Harry and Hermione shared a cautious look.

“Take it easy on him. He mucked up by breaking up with her, but it doesn’t mean he could’ve prevented this,” Hermione started slowly.

“Yeah, alrigh’. Still think he’s a right git though," Ron grumbled, kicking at some of the stone that landed on the floor. The discussion was clearly over. 

Disagreements amongst the group were common. For example, in fourth year when Harry had been picked as one of the Triwizard Champions, it was clear to Hermione that he would never knowingly put himself in danger, and Harry wasn't the type to illegally enter a tournament. Ron and Kathryn, sore and pent up with resentment, didn't want to believe Harry. It took a couple months and a terrible attempt on Harry's life by a dragon for Ron and Kathryn to finally come around.

Another one of the disagreements was about Kathryn and Fred's breakup. Ron had taken to the breakup quite bitterly, and took it out on Fred by openly and publicly blaming him for ruining "the family". While it was technically true, Kathryn was a decisive person. She had decided that if Fred wanted to run around London, shoving his "newly returned youth" into everyone's faces, she was not going to stand by and support him, despite friendship being offered. She'd either have him all of him or have nothing to do with him. So, with a decision made, their relationship and friendship was terminated. Despite being decisive, Kathryn wasn't petty or vengeful. She didn’t like the negative effect that the breakup had on Ron or Fred's relationship. Her, Harry, and Hermione had tried their best to stay neutral about the situation instead. 

Hermione sighed and quickly floo-ed to the Burrow, only to be greeted by the Order waiting in the sitting room. Shacklebolt, in his dark purple robes and his Minister’s hat, stood upon her arrival, looking at her expectantly.

“Her place was overturned. She’s not there. Looks like there was a fight.”

A breath was sucked in by the group. Things seemed to be getting more tense by the minute. Bill was seated next to a pregnant Fleur, who had immediately turned to her husband to whisper more about the news. Shacklebolt has taken a seat again, thoroughly disappointed and astounded by yet another disappearance. Fred and George stood quietly in the back, Fred with his eyes to the floor, and George quietly talking to Percy. Molly, Arthur, and Ginny stared at Hermione as she approached them.

“What happened? Are there any more letters?” Molly whispered, clutching at Arthur’s arm. Her maternal instincts were kicking in. 

“We thought we might find the book, but it wasn’t there. I thought that we’d find it for sure, especially since the note tells us to check her apartment. Maybe the people that took her took whatever message she was going to leave us,” Hermione theorized.

Fred snapped out of his dizziness.

“That letter was meant for me,” Fred could feel the wheels churning in his head. “…said that the apartment must be a mess since she wasn’t there to clean it. She could've meant my apartment.”

Hermione’s eyes brightened, obviously excited by this new lead. “Brilliant, Fred! Do you think it's possible that she left something there from before the breakup?”

Fred tries to think if he's ever discovered anything that had been hers over the past month, anything he was thinking of returning to her. Although, it was quite difficult to remember what his own room looked like, considering he had spent a large portion of the last month scouring London bars or falling asleep in the workroom at the back of the shop. 

"I think we should just go back to the flat and see," Fred stammered, scratching the back of his neck in chagrin. 

“If she comes, I’m coming too. Georgie’s gotta be here to save the day when things go wrong,” and with that George shrugged into his coat and entered the fireplace. “Let’s figure this out guys.”

And so, George, Fred, and Hermione floo-ed to the shop, looking for the evidence that was apparently waiting for them back at Number 93 Diagon Alley.


	3. Conspiracy of the State

Upon arriving at Number 93 Diagon Alley, Hermione couldn’t help but to think how normal the twins’ flat was. In comparison to Kathryn’s, the mess was mediocre, no overturned chairs and tables, no obvious rifling through drawers. Hermione let of a short quiver of a breath, almost in relief. Bright orange walls were offset with a large turquoise sofa. On her right was a small kitchenette, looking new and barely used. Papers and spell books littered the counter, and a small pewter cauldron was left cooking on the stove, a small lid placed on it. Hermione zeroed in on the white fridge in the corner of the room, covered with stickers, shopping lists, and prank ideas. The pictures on the fridge were all of Fred and Kathryn. She suddenly felt like she was intruding and turned to face the other way.

On the back wall, there was floor to ceiling bookshelves, stacked with books and potions ingredients for the twin’s experiments. Small props, beater bats, a quidditch set, and a spare pair of dress robes were all on the floor. Overall, the flat looked like a run-of-the-mill bachelor pad.

“Kat always used to bring books here. Her and Fred would read together. Do you have any of her old books here, Freddie?” George asked, brushing off soot from his trousers.

Fred felt disoriented at the memory of him and Kathryn reading together. They used to share a couch after dinner times, both busy and too socially drained to make much of an effort, and they’d both read their respective novels in each other’s company. Sometimes, she’d read to him out loud, a fact that was particularly interesting or a joke that was extremely funny. It was one of his favorite pastimes. Sometimes, he’d feel so tired and so content and so happy he’d fall asleep right on the couch, her gentle voice lulling him to sleep. Fred has realized his slackness when George looked at him expectantly and Hermione gazed at him, with a look of concern.

“Erm, yes! It’s on that bookshelf on the far right, closest to the door!”

The three of them scoured the bookcase, when finally, Hermione found the small black book, almost hidden behind a gigantic leather bound one.

“I found it! It was behind _Magical Menagerie_!”

“Educational books are supposed to be on the leftmost bookshelf; this book isn’t supposed to be here,” George muttered. “Fred, weren’t you suppose to reorganize this?”

“I-I didn’t put it there. She probably put it there to hide the book in case someone caught onto the trail,” Fred uttered.

Before she had time to acknowledge Fred’s point, Hermione was already flipping through pages of _The Sorrow's Second Best_ before finally coming to the end of the book, with small notes in scrawled handwriting were kept.

“I found another note! This isn’t in code!” The twins both leaned over Hermione’s shoulder to read the message.

_Fred,_

_Good, you caught onto the other message. I’m afraid this is the last that I can give you. I’m onto something big, and someone’s catching my tail for it. Most of my evidence is probably getting destroyed, if not ALREADY destroyed. Look into that for me, April’s not doing a good job of it and I think I know why. KEEP HARRY SAFE. This is bigger than all of us, and unfortunately it seems like he’s going to be a target again. _

_CARADOC DEARBORN BENJI FENWICK DORCAS MEADOWES ALBERT RUNCORN SELWYN ORDER OF THE PHOENIX_

_Find the connection. DOM. Don’t have much time. Don’t trust anyone. Burn this and the original letter. No paper trail starting now. This is off the Auror books._

_Kat_

“Should we burn this then?” George asked, looking unsurely at Fred and Hermione.

“Hold on. We’ve got to remember these names. I still don’t know quite what she’s talking about in half this message!” Hermione kept rereading the message, but it still did not make sense to her.

“Most of her evidence is getting destroyed… if not already…” Fred wondered if he could be onto something.

“Have an idea what that could mean, Gred?” George turned to his twin with a quizzical look.

Fred was suddenly deep in a memory that his subconscious dug out. It was early September, and mail-in orders were at an all time high. The rush of back-to-school had nearly landed Fred flat on his ass, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the rush of monthly mail-in orders. Hogwarts students who didn’t have time before school to drop into Diagon Alley all had rushed the mailboxes, and Fred could barely decipher who ordered how much of what. He had been down in the shop late after its closing, not noticing Kathryn standing in the doorway. She was wearing her Department of Mysteries robing, untying her hair from the bun that she had kept it in all day. She sighed, but not in relief.

“What’s wrong, love?” Fred asked, his eyes not tearing away from the restocked shelves. Inventory was a nightmare with the amount of people that were in and out day by day.

“Erm. My locker. With all my stuff in it. At the Ministry. Got broken into.” Kathryn did not sound mad about this, but more in a resigned state of shock.

“That’s a shame, love. You’d think there’d be more protection for employee personal belongings,” Fred’s eyes, again, did not leave the shelves.

“Yeah. All my stuff is… gone,” Kathryn voice went down to a defeated whisper. She looked up at Fred, only to see the back of his ginger hair, his head zipping around the shelves before furiously recording numbers onto a clipboard in front of him.

“You can always re-purchase those things, don’t be silly, Kat,” Fred comforted before promptly walking away from Kathryn, looking for another set of shelves to restock.

Kathryn stared at the place where her boyfriend formerly stood, her mouth open in an almost sad shock.

Fred looked down at Hermione, who was now staring at him with an indecipherable expression.

“I think I remember something. Her locker at the Ministry was broken into about a month and a half ago. Said all her stuff was gone. Could that be what she was talking about?” Fred asked, biting his lip nervously.

“Yeah, yeah. I think I heard about that. I’ll have to look more into it—”

“Don’t think that’s a good idea. I think something fishy is going on—don’t liberally ask around about this,” George announced, shocking Hermione out of her mumblings.

“What do you mean?” Hermione interrogated back.

“If what Fred is mentioning is true, then someone really did break into her locker in the Ministry. Someone knowingly took her stuff. Don’t you think that a low-level thief would’ve been caught breaking into a Ministry’s official’s locker?” George exclaimed.

Hermione shoved the small book into George’s hands, pointing at the message. “I don’t understand what that has to do with this.”

George’s eyes hungrily scanned the text, following it with his finger. He stopped at a single sentence. “Read this: ‘Look into that for me, April’s not doing a good job of it and I think I know why.’ And she says, ‘Don’t trust anyone’! AND she says that this is not going into the Auror books—there must be some sort of corruption! She doesn’t want any information about her disappearance or anything of what she knows to be found out by the Ministry!” Hermione nodded, finally understanding the points that George was making.

“So, someone in the Ministry is perhaps a culprit. Maybe they didn’t break into her locker persay, we can’t say that yet. But we do know that someone in the Ministry would perhaps be complicit in all of this,” Hermione continued. “April’s is Kathryn’s assistant and she’s mentioned in this note. Think she has something to do with this?”

“She could’ve been the one to steal the stuff herself, or is maybe covering the whole thing up so the real thief never gets found out,” George theorized.

Fred pointed down at another section of the message.

“DOM. That means Department of Mysteries. There’s for sure a connection to the Ministry! Also, see a name that looks familiar?” Fred pointed out.

Hermione’s finger ran down the page again. “Albert Runcorn. He was a Ministry offical. He imprisoned muggleborns during the war. Why is he in this-- didn’t he get thrown into Azkaban when the war ended?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but he is the perfect example of corruption within the Ministry. He basically had zero connections with Voldy or the Death Eaters, but was still as rotten as all of them. Think there might be a Death Eater connection here?” Fred asked.

“I dunno. Ron’s been telling me little stuff here and there, but most of that stuff is classified. But there has been a weird surge in Death Eater communication-- it’s been flagged as suspicious by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement,” Hermione muttered.

“Did they happen to be communicating with pips? Because that would bring this thing all full-circle,” George laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly. “No,” she deflected. “We caught one of them trying to send a letter and intercepted it. They’ve been trying to find old-magick ways to communicate, like Harry and Sirius’s mirror. From the sounds of the informant though, they haven’t been very successful.”

“I think we’re getting side-tracked now. Know any of these other names?” Fred queried.

Hermione and George shook their heads.

“Brilliant. We’ve just got to ask Shacklebolt back at the Burrow then. Any more clues you think she dropped anywhere?” Fred examined.

“I’d check your bedroom, Gred. After all, she was in there a lot.”

Fred heeded George’s advice, opening his small wooden door to his humble bedroom. His dark green sheets complemented his brightly striped walls, clothes strewn about on the floor. His workbench, one he used for business papers and important patents, was as messy as ever, half-finished cups of tea and broken quills littering its surface. Fred’s sneakers were thrown off casually toward the end of his bed. A small oak dresser on his back wall was open, more clothes falling out of overstuffed drawers. On Fred’s nightstand were old products, some were faulty, some were old prototypes of old inventions that he had kept for its sentimental value. He couldn’t find it in himself to part with them.

She did spend quite a bit of time in here, Fred laments, maybe even more than he did. On those late evenings in the shop, where Fred and George poured themselves over a cauldron, trying to discover or redesign products, Kathryn sat in Fred’s room doing God knows what. Fred reflects that maybe this was the time where she was discovering conspiracy theories all on her lonesome. He tries not to think about it too long.

Shifting through the room and occasionally throwing random clothing items here and there to make the floors cleaner, all Fred recovers from his search is an old woven bracelet of hers, shoved in the very back of his left nightstand. It doesn’t look of importance, but Fred slips it on his hand and goes through the rest of the room anyways. On the left of his bed is a small dresser, where primarily her clothes were stored. However, due to the nature of her job, she traveled quite a bit, and most of her clothes were already packed away in a suitcase ready for the next work trip. Her moving out of the apartment was much quicker because of this as well.

Fred moved next to the dresser and opened the door to his bathroom. Small, cramped, but clean, he looked through the drawers and cabinets, but only found random hygiene products here and there. Nothing out of the ordinary. He started toward his room, only to be reminded of a little memory.

He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, looking down at her as she scoured the bathroom drawer for a lost earring backing. He smiles at her in amusement. Kathryn’s now on her knees, looking into the drawer as if it’s the fifth dimension, pushing around the loads of junk in the drawer that Fred and Kathryn would shove in there if they were too busy to clean the bathroom counter properly.

“I reckon I don’t really have a shot though. Loads of people have entered the contest—there’s plenty Cannon fans in the office!” Kathryn complained about a Ministry-wide raffle contest, with the winner getting a pair of Chudley Cannon tickets for their next season. Her and Ron wouldn’t stop raving about it last Sunday at the Burrow.

Fred chuckled. “I dunno lovie, you’re kindof a lucky person. Maybe you have a bigger chance then you think,” Fred replied, continuing to observe his girlfriend’s panicked searching. “Might want to get a move on. Reservations are in half an hour.”

“Ugh! Bloody earrings with their stupid bloody backings and this stupid bathroom drawer. It just eats up everything! I put something in it and nothing comes out!” Kathryn was very prone to complaining about her problems. She found no issues with her constant complaining—she’d complain about school, complain about work, complain about her friends, she’d complain about their flat on top of the shop. She could complain, complain, complain. Strangely, it’s one of the things that Fred found quite charming about her. For a person who didn’t have much growing up, Fred wasn’t a complainer. He was quite a content kid. Having Kathryn complain to him, even when they were children, was a jackpot for Fred to make fun of her. Eventually, the jokes and jibes were made in good fun, and he found himself quite chuffed when his jokes and pranks would cheer her up, or make her forget about her problems. Perhaps that’s why they continually sought each other out during school.

“Really need to find these earrings, huh?” Fred huffed good naturedly.

“Yes! Look at me without them on, Fred. So ugly without them, my self-esteem won’t be able to take the hit if I go out in public without them!” Kathryn had stopped her searching and was now pouting on the bathroom floor. He loved it when she took the bit. She upped the drama. “Can barely look at myself. Look at this dress! Look at these shoes! But no earrings? No, just simply can’t go out like this.”

Fred didn’t quite understand how he had gotten in this conundrum. When he was younger, it was quite clear that he and George were the star of the show—the center of everyone’s attention and the life of every party. One would simply logic and say that his partner would have to be quieter, someone more sensible and low maintenance.

Kathryn was the exact opposite, and she knew it. She was unapologetic about it too.

“You’re a comedian, you are. Quite high maintenance too, lovie,” Fred sighed.

“Why the fuck should I be low maintenance? My love and attention are too valuable to give away for free!” She whined, but eventually climbed up from the floor, taking Fred’s hand for assistance.

Fred couldn’t find it in himself to disagree with her.

“You know, we could just purchase regular Cannon tickets for next season. Don’t have to do this bloody raffle, it seems to be stressing you out,” Fred explained.

Kathryn narrowed her eyes at him. “Not a chance. If I have any opportunity to beat Ron at something, I’m taking it. He always gets so angry, it’s so funny,” Kathryn laughed.

Fred raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “How does this raffle even work anyways?”

“You get a ticket every hour your working. The more you work, the more of your tickets are entered into the raffle. They pick at the end of the month, so the 30th of August. Reckon a game around mid-October would be nice to go to,” Kathryn said, slipping her earrings out of her ear.

“Seems like a ploy to get you to work more,” Fred frowned, watching Kathryn rest her earrings onto the bathroom counter.

“It’s a thinly veiled ploy, yes. But it works for me!” Kathryn exclaimed, turning to Fred with a cute pout on her face. “If I went out without earrings, would you be embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Fred stared at her, putting on a face of mock concentration. “Yes.”

He got a mighty smack for that one, but it was worth it. 


End file.
